


Somber

by Alazatours



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29935332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alazatours/pseuds/Alazatours
Summary: First ever ship fanfic lol. Give more ideas if you would like
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Somber

**Author's Note:**

> First ever ship fanfic lol. Give more ideas if you would like

He had been skipping meetings over the course of last week, which was unusual for someone at the likes of him. Through a series of missed calls and ignored emails, Arthur was home alone and lounging around on a lounge chair. He was leaning over while the bottom of his face was smothered in the fabrics of his cashmere robe. For a moment, he peered up to look at the time and grumbled in distress at the time he had been wasting.

He rolled over, his eyes now facing the ceiling and his arms huddled against his chest. After a light sigh, he propped himself up and immediately hid his face in his hands to cope with the lethargy that he carried in his movements. The low headache that fogged up his mind was accompanied with an intangible ring that would come and go. 

Upon ruffling his hair, he mumbled, “Shit…”

But that did not make anything better. He brought the back of his hand to his forehead and curled it into a fist not long after. Another fever was settling in and despite the heat that was building up under his blanket, a shiver still traveled through his shoulders. It was the dead of winter and even if he wanted to escape the warmth of his sheets, his efforts would be futile the moment his hands turned red in the cold. 

“I’ve really let myself go, haven’t I?” He muttered to himself. 

He had caught himself a cold not long ago. It was probably from Gilbert because he was throwing around a fit of coughs at a meeting three weeks back. The albino frequently coughed in his hands and in recent memory, Arthur could recall a dim memory of the two of them shaking hands. Upon realization, he buried his head in his knees and banged his fist on a presiding table, “That filthy bastard…”

It was just then when Arthur heard a series of knocks at the front door. In response, he rolled his eyes and took a deep breath before leaving the comfort of his chair and sliding into a pair of slippers. As he walked to answer the door, his feet barely lifted up and he was practically dragging them along the rug. Before long, he was leaning against the front door to support his weight. 

“What’s your business?” He asked with a slight jump in his tone. His breathing was heavy and controlled as he struggled to stand straight. This was all so tedious…

“You’ve been missing out on meetings,” the person stated. Arthur winced upon realizing the familiar accent and hastily opened the door.

He peaked out of the crack and glared, “Get the fuck out of here.”

It was right then and there when he entered a coughing fit, bending slightly over and covering his mouth in his elbow. He released the door handle and backed away from the door in order to recollect himself. The moment he turned his back away, the person entered his home and closed the door quietly. 

“I know you’re in here,” Arthur told them, his voice hoarse and his throat audibly sore. He sighed, “Get out of here, Francis.”

A pair of hands molded themselves into his tense shoulders and methodically massaged away their knots. Arthur stood up a little straighter, comforted by the simple act of kindness. But burdened with a sense of humility, Arthur turned away and brushed Francis’ hands away, “I don’t require your help.”

Despite an attempt to make the point clear, Arthur blew his nose into a napkin and hurriedly made it back to his chair and refused to look ahead and make eye contact. Francis walked over and sat right next to him, he tilted his head, “You could’ve told me you were sick, no?”

That suave attitude-

“No,” Arthur mumbled. Francis chuckled at his stubbornness and crossed his arms while leaning back into the chair. 

“You’re always so bitter,” Francis told him. 

Arthur snarled and brought his knees up to his chest, “Did you come here just to pester me?”

“Maybe.”

“Well if that’s the case,” Arthur lingered, “You can leave.”

“No,” Francis retorted while reaching over to ruffle Arthur’s hair, “I don’t think I will.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Arthur moved away and swatted away at Francis, “Stop doing that to my hair!”

“Lighten up,” Francis whined. 

Arthur mocked him, “Lighten up.”

The both of them then shared a moment of silence as Francis stood up to get a glass of water. Arthur watched as he paced around the room in order to get things set up in a timely fashion. Despite his ailment, he managed to smile at the effort Francis was putting in, in order to get his little place in order. After at least a good ten minutes had passed and the two of them were sitting next to each other again. 

Arthur stayed silent but Francis was aware that his presence was welcomed. The Brit stopped bickering and only moved to take a sip of water. Francis on the other hand maintained still, he just leaned back and crossed his legs over one another. It was all so unconventional, had Arthur just called in sick they would have avoided all of this ruckus. Actually, Francis would have just visited a week earlier. 

The paperwork on the kitchen table was piling up as a result of all those meetings that Arthur’s cold had held him back from. Thinking quickly, Francis stood up and got a hold of all of them and Arthur was too exhausted to complain. From there, Francis looked over all of them and read them to Arthur carefully so as to not miss any word. Sure, Arthur desperately wanted to criticize him on his inability to pronounce certain words correctly, but who was he to judge at a time like this?

“Are you okay with this one?” Francis asked for confirmation. 

“I’ll sign it later,” Arthur replied. 

In the hours that now followed, they just repeated the same course of action. If it sounded good, Arthur would ask to save it. If whatever he heard sounded bad, he would ask that it ‘get burned’ That deal that Ludwig asked for sounded great, low cost and efficient. But that deal that Alfred seemed to want was farfetched and made Arthur prefer that he caught an earwig instead. But with no consciousness of time, the documents ran short and there was no longer anything to read.

Arthur turned his head, “Tell me what happened last week…”

“Last week?”

“For god's sake,” Arthur scolded. “The meetings you dimwit.”

“Ah,” Francis said. “Last week Lovino threw a fit and hit his brother with the microphone.”

“The microphone?”

“Oui, the microphone…”

The update was detailed. Much to Arthur’s disappointment, he learned that his own siblings somehow managed to swear him out at meetings despite the fact that he was not even present. It turned out the Nords were doing well as usual while all the other Euro countries carried out their typical business and fought over minor disagreements. However, it was pleasant to hear that Matthew asked about his wellbeing, while Alfred did not-

Night carried over and Francis knew that Arthur’s attention was dying out. He knew this when the Brit stopped humming or groaning at the things he let him know. It was a surprise that Arthur was still moderately intrigued with the things that happened at those meetings. With the years piling up, one would have imagined that he would be sick of it by now. 

Eventually, the discussion died down and the both of them were sitting still. Francis sat back as Arthur remained huddled in his sheets. His temper has died down with the departure of the worst of his fever. They both looked at each other and stared as if they were having another quiet discussion. Francis knew well enough that it was just Arthur’s own way of checking on him. He nodded and Arthur turned away.

Without any notice, Arthur shuffled over and leaned on Francis’ shoulder. Unfazed by the interaction, Francis just chuckled and moved his arm over the Brit’s shoulder. They both said nothing. But the light squeeze that Francis laid on Arthur’s shoulder said all that they needed to know. 

Arthur sighed, “you’re good?”

Francis nodded and replied by planting a kiss on his forehead. Arthur said nothing and had no reaction other than a lousy smile that swept across his face. Perhaps the company had driven off the dullness he was feeling that day. The hours continued to flow by as the street lights flickered and slid through the blinds. Yet in the midnight hour, they both fell victim to the solemnity of night.


End file.
